Ransom and Recovery
by YnitOcelot
Summary: "When Guv decided to stay with the cars rather than join in with the chase, I knew that something was wrong." After George Gently is snatched by a violent criminal, it's up to Bacchus to head the case. But, even after the rescue, the two men have some mutual demons to confront. 10/12-ish chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Note: this story is non-canon as I don't know how the final episode of IGG will pan out: it is set after the events of Son of a Gun in early 1970.

* * *

Chapter One

When Guv decided to stay with the cars rather than join in with the chase, I knew that something was wrong. "Guv, you alright?"

He was leaning against the car, teeth gritted. The rain was coming down in sheets around us, soaking us through to the bone. He waved his hand and snapped breathlessly, "What are you waiting for, John? Get after 'im!"

We did even though the rain was driving horizontally and the temperature was plummeting down and, eventually, it was sleet we were being pelted with. We stumbled around in the gathering darkness, cursing and growling in frustration. Tom Raleigh seemed to have melted into rain.

At first, I didn't hear my radio squawking, but Rachel grabbed it off my hip and shouted, "Yes? Have you caught him?"

" _No!"_ a mouthful of rain spluttered on the other end, _"No! Sergeant Bacchus' car is gone – and so is DCI Gently!"_

"What?" I snatched the radio, "Gone? Gone where?"

" _I think it was Raleigh. I 'eard a scuffle, but when I got there the car were already gone!"_

Rachel stared at me. Everyone stared at me. The radio dropped from my numb fingers, "Shit." I murmured. Then the full force of what I'd just heard hit like a tonne of bricks. "Shit. Shit! Everybody, get back to the cars! Now!"

Then I was running, sliding down the hill, slipping in the mud. Scrambling really, not caring that everyone else was taking the slope more slowly, not caring that I wasn't being closely backed up. We hadn't known if Raleigh had had a weapon or where exactly he was trying to run to, but now it the impossible seemed to have happened. I splashed through the puddles and reached the remaining cars. My tire tracks were already almost filled with water and a young policeman – Elderton – was crouched down and pulling on a pair of rubber gloves.

He looked up as I approached and shook his head. "I'm sorry, man – sir," he amended quietly, "I weren't quick enough. I thought I 'eard something in them bushes there," he pointed to the left of me, down another hillock, "But there were nothing there and then – I was really deep in there – I 'eard raised voices and it sounded like a fight then I got out 'ere an' 'e were gone and the car was gone an' –"

"Just shut up." I know I was lashing out irrationally, but there was still the creeping fury in my gut. The pieces were coming together to form a nasty picture. "What's that?" I demanded, pointing.

Elderton looked at me.

"You can talk, sorry," I muttered.

Elderton showed me. Through his trembling white-gloved fingers, I saw the I.D card: Chief Inspector George Gently. There was blood dotting the corner of it.

Then I realised that we weren't standing on mud; we were standing on Guv's trampled anorak.

I wanted to be sick.

I organised the search parties personally and I would have been on them myself, only Rachel and Taylor pointed out that I was now the highest ranked officer in the station. I was in charge of the case. One armed man on the run assumed with, when our extensive patrols failed to turn up a body, one hostage – white male in his sixties with health problems. Knew his kidnapper. High risk of violence towards the captive.

I felt like there was a time bomb about to go off and I'd forgotten the steps to defuse it. I was in charge, but I was a mess: yelling at my officers, trying to do too much at once. Too prideful and too scared to ask Rachel or Taylor for help, but they pitched in anyway… did a better job than I did.

I didn't go home the following night. I wanted to be close by a telephone if anything happened. I wanted to be the first to know. Rachel left around midnight with the logically sound reason that she wanted to be rested and ready if we did see action. Taylor attempted to get me to join her, but I shook my head adamantly. Gently wouldn't have left if it was me.

He did bring me a blanket and a pillow, though, before he left.

I got changed in the bathroom into my sports kit. It was more comfortable than my shirtsleeves and tie. Looking in the mirror, I reflected how quickly stress shows on the face, I looked so worn and tired.

God, had it only been this morning?

I felt thin and stretched. "It should be you, Guv," I muttered to my reflection, "You know how to handle this better than me."

Unsurprisingly, I didn't get an answer.

The sun slanting through the curtain woke me. I rolled over, cursing and blinking. The light hurt my eyes, my head. I had a headache trying to burst out through my temples and for a moment I was confused; where had I been drinking? Why was I asleep in my office?

Then reality came crashing down. "Guv?"

"He's still missing, John."

Shocked, I scrambled backwards, tangling myself in my blanket. Rachel was standing over me, a steaming mug of tea in her hand. She looked tired, like she hadn't slept much either.

"Did anything 'appen?" I asked.

She shook her head and took my hand, pressing the mug into it. I took a slip; it was hot and sweet with plenty of sugar. "Whoever made this needs to be demoted," I muttered, trying to lighten the mood.

"No thanks, man. Those exams were stressful enough once," Rachel replied, but her voice wasn't as cold as it usually would be. "There's no news. Nothing's come through. Your car hadn't been found an' no one's seen Raleigh or the Chief Inspector."

"Jesus." I rubbed my eyes.

"No news is good news, isn't it, John?" she asked. The question was optimistic, but I saw her clasp her hands like a schoolgirl being told off by the teacher.

"No," the fury spilt over and I snarled, "No news is bad! No news means that Raleigh's already put a bullet in Guv's brain because he's of no further use to him –" My voice broke. "If we don't hear anything then Gently is dead, Rachel. Dead. Murdered." Furiously, I wiped my face, forcing my eyes to stop watering.

Rachel watched me. "You need to calm down," she said firmly.

"I am calm!"

"If that's calm, I don't want to see what you call tense!"

"That's no way to speak to your superior officer!"

"Oh, that old chestnut again?" Rachel practically spat at me, "Jesus, John, grow a spine. You spoke to Gently like this all the time."

"Well, I'm not Gently," I retorted, "And –"

I halted. A crashing wave of fear crushed my bones. Rachel tilted her head and I slumped into my chair, the tea spilling on the desk. "I'm… I'm not Gently, Rachel. I'm not… I'm not good enough."

"You are."

"No, I'm not. I've already made a cock-up of this. I'm sorry, Rachel." I covered my face with my hands, I was trembling and I didn't want to be.

She walked around and squeezed my shoulder, "Come on, John. We'll find him. He'll be OK."

I laughed bitterly, just as Taylor shoved his way through the door, a telephone hanging from his hand. "Inspector! Raleigh's just got in contact."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

" _To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"_ Raleigh's tone was oily, overly pleasant.

"Detective Inspector John Bacchus," I forced myself to speak clearly and calmly. "Where is Chief Inspector George Gently?"

" _Oh, straight to the point. I like that."_ Raleigh laughed. He had a strange laugh; it juddered up and down an octave instead of climbing it like most people. _"Oh, he's safe for now,"_ he added, _"Safe as houses, isn't that right, Chief Inspector?"_

"Is Gently there? I want to speak to him. Put him on."

" _You don't have the authority to demand that, John Bacchus. I decide. Besides, he might find speaking… difficult."_

"I need to know he's still alive!" I shouted. Rachel motioned at me. Be calm. Be rational. "I won't bargain for a corpse. I need to hear that he's still alive and unhurt."

" _Do you know he's a spastic, John Bacchus?"_

My blood turned to sludge, my heart twisting. "What… what do you mean, Raleigh?"

" _Your Chief Inspector's a spastic, John Bacchus,"_ the words warped into a mocking sympathy, _"The poor fella can hardly walk. That's how I caught him, you know, he barely even struggled."_

I shuddered and attempted to ignore Taylor's wide-eyed horror, "I know. He's sick, Raleigh. Very sick."

A long breath of static echoed in my ear. _"Then I'd be doing him a favour, wouldn't I, John Bacchus, if I put him out of his misery?"_

"No!" I was standing now, all decorum gone. "You shoot him, Raleigh, and I'll hunt you down and mebbe I won't even bother with the judge. Mebbe I'll do the same to you."

Raleigh laughed again. _"That's not the Chief Inspector's way, is it, John Bacchus? Is it, Chief Inspector?"_ There was the sound of flesh striking flesh and a muffled grunt of pain.

"Stop it!"

" _No,"_ Raleigh's tone dropped several degrees and classes, _"No, you're the one who stops it, John Bacchus. You threaten me again and I'll do more than just hit him – got it?"_

"I've got it. Please… please, I want to speak to him."

I held my breath. There was a scuffling sound from the other end and then; _"John?"_

I felt like weeping in relief, "Sir, are you alright?"

His voice was slurred, like he was speaking around cotton wool, _"Don't worry about me, John. Worry about catching Raleigh."_ His voice dropped to almost a whisper, _"You can do this, John – faith!"_

Another heavy thud. The brief yelp made my knuckles whiten; "Guv!"

" _That's enough from him,"_ Raleigh said darkly.

I swallowed convulsively. "What do you want, Raleigh?"

That seemed to confuse him. _"Want?"_

I slammed my hand into the desk, making the telephone jump. Rachel and Taylor flinched. "Yes! You've kept my guv alive. He's your hostage. Why?"

" _I just want to give you a message."_ It was said so innocently that I wanted to be sick. _"A message of what you pigs get if you cross me."_

"Cross you? What do you mean?" I asked. Rachel raised her eyebrows. I scrabbled for a sheet of paper, ripping it in the process. Taylor handed me a pen and I scribbled, don't know. Trace?

"Elderton is on it," Taylor told me quietly. "Keep him talking."

I nodded. "What do you mean, Raleigh?"

" _I have sent you my demands,"_ Raleigh said casually. _"I will telephone you tomorrow once it arrives. For now… goodbye, John Bacchus."_

"No! Wait -!"

The line crackled and died. I was left holding the telephone, staring into the middle distance.

"John?" Rachel gently took the telephone from me and placed it back in the cradle. Placing her hand on my arm, she asked, "John. Are you alright?"

"Raleigh's going to send his demands," I said faintly, "He said he'll 'phone us tomorrow."

Taylor shoved another piece of paper under my hand. I stared at him, confused. "Write it down. Everything you remember. What did Inspector Gently say?"

"He – he told me not to worry about him," I smiled despite myself. Typical Guv. "Told me to catch Raleigh and… he told me to have faith."

"Faith?" Rachel asked, "What did he mean by that?"

"Well, I expect he didn't mean to just sit around and pray," I snapped.

"We managed to trace the call," Rachel said, pointing to the map pinned up on the board, "But we only have this general area," she tapped the centre of a circle angrily drawn in red pen, "Meaning that the Chief Inspector could be anywhere within this two-and-a-half mile radius."

I stifled a yawn in the back corner. I had not slept well last night; my imagination throwing up some pretty graphic nightmares every time I closed my eyes.

"What's the area like?" one policeman – Henryson – asked. "Can we mount a search?"

Rachel bit her lip and looked at me. "I – I'm not sure. We can go door to door, but…"

"But we don't want to spook Raleigh," I growled, "He's got us by the throat. We put out a big police presence then… best result: he moves Gently somewhere else. Worst? He puts a bullet in his head!" I didn't mean to shout, but the tension burst out of me like a smashed dam.

Everyone turned around to stare at me. Reddening, I shoved away my chair and stood. "I'm going to check the post," I muttered.

In the bathroom, I locked myself in one of the stalls and sat down. Burying my face in my hands, I exhaled a heavy breath. "Jesus, John," I told myself, "Get a hold of yourself. Just think. What would Gently do?"

"Inspector?"

I hesitated a moment, wanting to be left alone.

"Sir, are you in here?" He knocked on the door, his voice wavering.

"Yes, what is it, Taylor?" I rubbed my eyes but I made no move to unlock the stall door.

"That package has arrived and I think you better take a look at it."

My stomach dropped through my feet. "Why?" I asked. My fingers were trembling as I tried to open the lock.

The door opened to reveal Taylor. He was holding out a plastic bag. I took it gingerly and folded back the creases so I could see inside.

My heart froze and, without meaning to, I shook my head in denial.

Glittering in the dim light was a gold wedding ring and a silver lighter. I didn't need to read the inscription – To George from Isabella – to know whose they were.

"Oh, Jesus Christ."

Taylor looked at me. "Look on the bright side;" he said quietly, "It could have been a finger."

I stared at the letter. It was Guv's handwriting alright and there was something very surreal about reading the words, 'if you don't comply with my demands then I'll shoot your Chief Inspector and dump the body where you'll never find it' in Gently's distinctive script. "Bastard," I muttered, "'E couldn't even write the bloody ransom note 'imself."

I threw the letter onto my desk, taking savage pleasure in it crumpling as it hit the wood. Rachel reached over and smoothed it out. "He wants us to give him safe passage out of the country and three hundred pound."

"The Chief's never going to endorse that," Taylor said, "That would be negotiating with terrorists."

"I know," I took a long drag on my cigarette to steady my nerves and said, "We could pad it out, mebbe…"

The telephone on my desk rang as shrill as scraping glass. I stubbed out my cigarette and swallowed my fear, snatching up the 'phone before I lost my nerve. "Hello."

" _Did you get my message, John Bacchus?"_

"Yeah. I did."

" _And?"_

"We need time." Hopefully the trace was kicking in now. "Three hundred bob and safe passage? That's a lot to ask. I don't 'ave access to stuff like that…"

" _He's getting worse, you know."_

The calm, quiet statement was worse than a shout. I could hear the smirk in Raleigh's voice.

My voice had dried up.

Raleigh continued, _"He's very confused. Oh, sometimes he's lucid and that's fun."_

My heart was hammering. I swallowed again.

" _But more and more, he's asking for Isabella. Who is Isabella, John Bacchus?"_

"What the hell are you doin' to 'im?" I managed. "I want –"

" _The Chief Inspector isn't here, John Bacchus. I'm in a phone box, miles away."_ I heard him take a breath. Desperately I tried to keep my composure. Raleigh continued, sounding like we were talking at a tea party or something, _"I'm sure that you wouldn't want to prolong my stay here. What if something happens…?"_

The pen kept sliding out of my fingers. I was sweating like a pig. A pig in a uniform. Ha. "Where and when?" I asked.

" _Two days from now. Noon. The heath. The place in the road that overlooks Durham. You will come alone with the money and passport."_

"And the Chief Inspector?"

" _We'll trade. Nice and calm-like. First sign of trouble and I'll shoot him, understand?"_

The cliché stabbed me in the guts. Fire dancing through me, I had to restrain myself from screaming down the 'phone. It was like Raleigh wasn't even taking this seriously. "We have a deal." I heard myself saying through the mists of rage. I couldn't understand why I was so calm.

" _Good. It'll be good to see you in the flesh, John Bacchus."_

"I'm lookin' forward to it," I snarled, but it was into a dead line. Slowly I placed the phone into the cradle.

Rachel pulled a chair across the floor and then sat herself down beside me. "How long do we have?" she asked.

"Two days." I fumbled in my pocket for another cigarette. "He's not goin' to release Gently. I know it."

Taylor shook his head and folded the letter up again. "What do we do?"

"I don't know."

"I do," Rachel said. We stared at her. She misunderstood and continued hotly, "We need to go door to door. We need to investigate the area. You said that Raleigh's not going to hold up his end of the bargain and getting the three hundred pound isn't goin' to happen."

"What if we scare Raleigh?" Taylor asked.

"Easy, plain clothes. Raleigh has no idea what we look like, does he? Not all of us. Send out a few coppers dressed as normal hillwalkers or something. He'll not guess." Rachel stared defiantly.

To my horror, Taylor was nodding. "That could work."

"Are you insane?!" I slammed the desk. "It's too risky!"

"Inspector…" Taylor began, but I shut him up with a glare.

"What do you know, Taylor? Your only job 'ere is to make the bloody tea!"

Silence. I knew I'd gone too far. "Taylor… I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"

Tight-lipped, he responded, "I know you didn't. You're scared, Inspector. So am I. So's Rachel. But we're not tearing strips off everyone who offers us a solution. I suggest," His gaze flashed dangerously, "You calm down. You're right. It's risky, but we need to take it," Taylor's smile was faint, but there were teeth in it, "How about I get you a cup of tea?"

There was nothing I could say to that.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The wind was picking up. I lounged against a low stone dyke, cursing quietly as my cigarette refused to light. The house opposite us was squat and crudely made of stone, forbidding. "Anything suspicious?" I asked.

Casually, carefully, Rachel glanced around and said, "We've bin here an hour and I've only seen a couple of teenagers sneaking kisses in the winda. Somehow I doubt Raleigh's hiding in there."

"Yeah." Giving up on my smoke in disgust, I instead reached for my notebook and crossed off another place. "Nothing on the radio?"

"Nah." Rachel rubbed her ear. "Trevors thought he might have a hit, but it turned out to be false."

"Fuck." I leant my forehead against the stone, glaring out at the valley dropping gently below. There was a winding river cutting through it, the whole reason for the geographical feature. Out of nowhere, I suddenly heard my primary school teacher waxing lyrical about it. God, it bored me now.

I turned my mind to my missing boss, feeling guilty and disloyal.

Guv had been kidnapped nearly three days ago now; fifty hours in Raleigh's clutches was a very long time. Plus, we didn't know what shape he was in; Raleigh had insinuated that he was sick, but it could have been a lie to make us more willing to trade. I hoped Raleigh was lying. "Gently could be anywhere. There're loads of isolated houses here; Raleigh could be hiding in any one of them!"

We got back into the car, Rachel driving. I didn't trust myself to.

I stared out the window, seeing the horse track running parallel to the road beside the river down in the valley. Nestled at the edge of the hill, almost around the corner, I could see some small ramshackle building, a stable of sorts. Then we sped past.

"Let's go over it," Rachel finally said. "What did Inspector Gently say?"

Sighing, I flipped open my notebook and read in a singsong voice, "'Don't worry about me, John. Worry about catching Raleigh. You can do this John, faith.' We've gone over this."

"We're going over it again. Think, John!"

I closed my eyes, pinching my nose. Guv had sounded odd, but that hardly a surprise. There must have been a message in there, he wasn't stupid.

But what?

"Faith," I said, "What did he mean by faith?"

Rachel suddenly slammed on the brakes, almost throwing me into the windscreen. "Faith!" she cried.

"Yeah? What is it, Rachel?"

"John! Where do you need to have faith?"

I stared at her. "What? Where?"

"A church!" She looked at me with wide eyes. "He's being held in a church!" I held her gaze for a moment and then I was grabbing for the map. Almost tearing it in my haste, I unfolded it and scanned the circled area.

"There!" I stabbed my finger at a small symbol, "There's an abandoned church not four miles from here. St… St. Michael." I snatched the radio and yelled, "Inspector Bacchus, Detective Cole and I may have a lead. Any officers in the area, head for St. Michael's church…" I rattled off the coordinates, barely hearing the replies. I sat back. Had we found 'im?

The church wasn't as badly collapsed as I feared it was. If the building had been nothing but rubble then even if Guv was being held there, he'd be exposed to the elements. I ducked my head back behind the wall. My heart was thumping and I desperately wanted a smoke to calm my nerves. Was Raleigh in there? And more to the point… was Guv?

"What's the plan, then, sir?" Elderton asked. He was clutching his truncheon like a talisman. I looked past him, darkly impressed with the number of police officers that had charged their way here to help rescue their boss.

And Gently thought he wasn't well-liked.

They were all waiting for my answer. I took a breath, pretending not to see Rachel's encouraging nod. "We'll surround the building. We don't want to give Raleigh an escape route. Remember, as far as we know, Raleigh is armed and he has a hostage. Chief Inspector Gently may not be able to 'elp us, we've been told he's…" my voice faltered, "Raleigh's told us that he's sick and we assume the worst case, alright?" My hands were trembling at the thought. "Anything else anyone wants to add?"

Rachel glanced down at her notebook. "A neighbour, living in that house down there," she pointed at a pretty little cottage, "Says she saw a car drive off just twenty minutes ago. There's someone walkin' around inside. Not sure if it's Raleigh because she wasn't close enough to recognise 'im."

"Okay." I was trying to reassure myself more than anyone else. "Okay. Let's move in. Carefully. I'd rather get the Chief Inspector back in one piece."

We fanned out, approaching the church. The wind was howling in my ears and I cursed. Trying to communicate with my co-workers was difficult and the last thing I wanted was for somebody to be trapped with Raleigh and unable to summon backup. I made my way to a rotting side door, wishing I had checked out a revolver. Too late.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rachel ready herself. I took a breath and gave the signal.

The wood yielded surprisingly easily. I edged into the room, truncheon held out in front of me. The room was small, filled with decaying pews and I could see a door leading out somewhere else. Dusty light filtered through the cracked stained glass window, highlighting a rusting cross stood on the altar. I stepped cautiously between the rows and began to walk along the aisle, checking below the seats for a familiar, huddled figure…

"All clear," Elderton's whisper carried and I winced, "There's no one here."

There was a thump from the other room.

Automatically, we all turned to glare at the door. I pointed to myself and then the door. Hoping they all understood I inched my way over, cautious of creaking floorboards, and grasped the doorknob, slimy with mould. Someone was rummaging about inside, seemingly oblivious to us. A click. Light.

What the –

I shoved open the door, raising my truncheon like a club. "Police! Stay where you are!"

The scruffy young hippy dropped his camera in shock, letting out a started, "Fuck me!"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

"I'm sorry, John." I ignored her, sucking down another lungful of smoke. I was sitting against the metal bumper of a police car, the cold burning through my long coat and trousers. Somewhere, I could hear the hippy protesting the line of questioning and demanding that I pay for his new camera. Rachel sat down next to me. "I really thought we'd cracked it," she said sadly.

"Well, we didn't. It was just a colossal waste of time." I snarled, exhaling noisily, "We've done nothing but catch a holidaymaker with a weird interest in dilapidated buildings and we're back to square one – can someone please shut 'im up and get 'im _out_ of here!"

"John…"

"Leave me alone, Rachel."

She left to go talk to the hippy and I sat, staring up at the darkening sky. I stubbed the remains of my cigarette out on the road and reached for another. "Where are you, guv?" I murmured, "You were trying to tell me something… what?" I pulled out my notebook and flipped it open at the page with my guv's last message scrawled on it. I read it over, tapping each word. Around me the others were leaving, the throaty roar of the engines pointedly ignored.

I wrote the last section out again on the next page, 'YOU CAN DO IT JOHN FAITH."

Faith. Why faith? I wrote it out again, staring at the word. Faith. Faith.

Taylor came over, his helmet jammed low on his head. "Sir, we need to go back to the station."

"Faith, Taylor. What did he mean by faith?" I passed him over the notebook.

Taylor took it. "I dunno. You've given it a capital letter, though, sir. Look." He wrote it out again underneath, this time with a lower case 'f'. "Faith: that's a girl's name."

"Yeah. Remember that case? The bairn? Bloody lucky we rescued her –"

I froze.

I was dimly aware of Taylor shaking my shoulder. The puzzle clicked into place. Faith had been kidnapped and held for ransom. We'd found her wrapped up in a –

In a –

I jumped up and staggered over to one of the last remaining cars. Taylor chased me, "Sir?" I pulled open the door with more force than necessary. "Sir!"

"Call the station. I have an idea of where Gently might be being held." The instruction was shouted through the window as I twisted the key viciously. The engine snarled. "A stable, Taylor, we found Faith in a stable!"

"Wait!" I didn't hear any more. Instead, I put my foot down.

* * *

The hills flashed past, the setting sun dancing over the green crests. Stable, stable… I'd seen a stable down in the valley! It was as good a place to start as any. I pulled up to a stop on the hill and grabbed my binoculars from the glove compartment.

They were a little dusty, but I squinted through them. Yes, that was an old horse track, disused by the looks of it. I couldn't see the car, but I assumed that Raleigh must have dumped it nearby so it wouldn't cause any suspicion.

I sat back against the car seat, rubbing my knuckles against my hand. Now what? If Gently was being held down there, then it was likely that Raleigh was nearby. Also, I would need to get him to safety before even attempting any kind of showdown with the escaped criminal. Hissing through my teeth, I snagged the map off of the passenger seat and located the track. I smiled. I was in luck.

Just as the map said, the main road petered down to the tiny track not half a mile from the stable. I slowed the car, frowning. There was a little hut near the stable. It was in much better shape than the other, squat shape. Raleigh was likely in there; it was warm-looking and concealed from the road above as well as close enough to the tiny stable that Raleigh would be able to keep an eye out for escape attempts. Sweat was beading on my forehead as I realised the stupidity of my plan.

But I was committed to it now. I got out of the car, grabbing a torch from the boot. It's getting dark, I told myself repeatedly. There's no light on in the hut. You're wearing grey and black. Gently needs your help.

I crept along beside the track; it was made of little stones that rattled disconcertingly with each step, so I stayed on the grass instead. There was no movement from the hut. I moved quicker, keeping the torch off.

The stable door was locked, but it was only a sliding bolt. It made a horrible metal screech as I hauled on it and I glanced back at the hut, heart thumping. Nothing.

The door swung open and I stepped inside, almost overwhelmed by the stench of wet straw. I flicked the switch on the torch, igniting a beam of white light. My first sweep only revealed several stalls filled with rotting hay and a few chittering rats. "Guv…?" I called out softly as I moved forwards between the line of looseboxes, checking each one. "Guv?"

Then, weak and barely audible, I heard in the darkness, "… John?"

"Guv!" The torchlight picked out a shape crouched against the far wall. I ran over, grinning in relief. My smile faded however, when I reached DCI George Gently's side. The light suddenly felt harsh and I had to swallow my fear.

He was a sorry sight. I was almost glad he was blindfolded so he couldn't see the pure horror on my face. Both wrists were chained to a pipe in the wall; it was above him and to the right, forcing him into an uncomfortable-looking twist. His shirt, pristine three days ago, was grey, stained by sludge and blood. He stank too, of sweat and soil and piss. "Guv, it's OK. I've found you. I'll get you out of here…" I tried to keep up the soothing litany as I reached out with trembling hands to remove the foul-smelling cloth. It fell away and Gently blinked, ducking his face out of the light. "Sorry," I directed the torch down, scaring a rat.

He shook his head. "It's alright, John." His voice was gruff, but it was because of thirst, not fear. I almost smiled; old soldier.

I knelt down, fishing out my handcuff keys, only now getting a good look at Gently's face. He was startlingly pale under the three-day beard; with an impressive shiner and swollen lip to match. As he turned his head away from my scrutiny, I glimpsed blood crusted in his hair. "You're hurt." It just slipped out.

"A little."

His skin was icy, fingers almost blue. I wouldn't be surprised if it turned out that he was hypothermic. "Raleigh said…"

The gaze turned on me was intense and not at all confused. "And do you believe everything that a bastard like Raleigh says?"

The first cuff unlocked and Gently lowered his arm with an audible groan. His hand was shaking, but I didn't know whether it was because of the cold or his illness or even the way it'd been trapped above him. Maybe it was a combination of all three.

"He said you were feverish." The second cuff came off revealing dark bruises. Self-inflicted most likely, I thought.

He laughed bitterly, "I got water twice – drugged both times. Gritty. No choice unless I wanted to drink me own piss, so yeah, I was a bit…" he waggled his hand. "Raleigh?" I didn't answer, instead shrugging off my coat. Gently glared at me and repeated, "Raleigh. Did you catch 'im?"

That reminded me of our shortening time frame. "We need to go, guv. Can you walk?"

"Did you catch Raleigh?" Gently waved away the offer of my coat.

I ignored him and dropped it around his shoulders, "Guv, don't be thick, you're freezin'. I need to know, can you walk?"

He flushed and looked away, biting his lip.

I stared at him, already knowing the answer, but needing to hear it. "Please, guv. Can you walk?"

"… No." Gesturing violently at his legs, Gently added, "I'm… it's the MS, John, and the cold. I can barely move…" He looked up at me, eyes far too bright. "I'm sorry, John."

"Don't be stupid." The anger was boiling in me, uselessly. Trying not to show my sinking pity, I slung his arm over my shoulder and hauled Gently up. He leant heavily on me, cursing. The first step I almost overbalanced, Gently tripping over his own feet. My heart sank. Every movement he made was so slow, so sluggish, and he was trembling. I could feel every shiver and it scared me shitless.

How the hell was I going to get him back to the car?

We began to hobble back towards the door, towards the brightening, moonlit night. Every step was a chant; almost there, almost there, almost –

And then a shadow blocked the way.

* * *

Dun, dun, dun! Just a note to say that the updates may get quite sporodic at this point and that there's around eleven or twelve chapters to this story. Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

"Ah, Chief Inspector Gently, are you leaving so soon?" Raleigh's eyes were in shadow, but I could see the shark-like smile playing around his lips. Clutched in his hand was a dark shape – a gun. I stiffened. Raleigh stepped forwards, thumbing back the hammer. "And a friend, hello there, copper."

"Stand aside, Raleigh," I managed, feeling an old fire in my guts and remembering the path of another, older bullet. "We're leavin'."

"No. You're not." Raleigh gestured with the gun, pointing back behind us, "Get back in the pen, pig."

I stayed where I was. I hoped the glare I was giving Raleigh looked defiant, not terrified.

"John." Gently's voice was low. "Do as he says, John."

"'E needs a hospital," I snarled at Raleigh, ignoring Gently's warning, "And that's where we're goin'. You can disappear into the night fer all I care right now, but I'm taking 'im to a hospital." I took a step towards the door.

"So you're John Bacchus, in the flesh." Raleigh's voice hardened, "You're much smaller than I thought – and far stupider. Now go sit down before I blow a hole in your stomach and let you bleed out." I glared at him. "SIT DOWN!"

I staggered back to the wall and lowered Gently down as gently as I could. His breathing was worrying me; it was too rapid and too shallow. "Guv… are you OK?" I asked, as I slid down next to him.

He looked at me with eyes glazing over from pain and whispered, "Please tell me, John, please, please, please tell me you haven't come alone."

I couldn't meet his gaze, instead reaching over to check the wound on his head. He shook me off and cursed weakly. "John, you –"

"Shut up, Chief Inspector." Raleigh waved the gun dismissively at him. "I'll take that torch off you, John Bacchus. Just in case you decide to try something clever." I dug the torch out of my pocket and held it out. Raleigh snatched it away. "Hands on your head, John Bacchus."

He walked to the opening of the stall, blocking our way out. We were cornered. My heart was pounding and I remember thinking that I'd shield Gently from anything Raleigh did. I gulped, feeling my Adam's apple bobbing. "Listen to me, Raleigh," my voice was shaking, "Listen, you could just run now. No one's goin' to give you the money or the passport. Just leave and you won't be looking at twenty years for murder!"

Raleigh's laugh was dark, "Not where I'm aiming, John Bacchus." He cocked the gun again and pointed it at my leg. I swallowed. "Why did you come alone, John Bacchus?" he asked with mock-concern, "Surely Durham Police Station has enough officers to mount a proper rescue?"

"There's police on the way, Raleigh," I replied, but I knew I wasn't going to convince him, "They'll be comin'."

Raleigh tilted his head, "There's only one car and I ripped out the radio. You're not calling no one for help. Don't lie to me, John Bacchus; it could go very badly for you and your Chief Inspector."

"Leave 'im alone," Gently growled, "You will not touch him."

"I can do anything I like." Raleigh moved swiftly, lashing out with his gun. I let out a yell, twisting to try and avoid the blow. But there was nowhere to go. It caught me on the shoulder with the force of a hammer. Pain blossomed and split across my back. I dropped, retching.

"John!"

Raleigh grabbed my collar and slammed me against the wall of the loosebox. Straw floated down and I could feel the bruises already forming under my skin. I felt Raleigh's arm tauten as he prepared to repeat the manoeuvre.

"Stop!" It wasn't elegant, but Gently hauled himself between us, breaking Raleigh's grip. I fell against the loosebox wall, the hurt making my head spin. Raleigh snarled and moved towards Gently. I heard his breath catch as he waited for the blow, but evidently, Raleigh had decided that his point had been made.

He stepped back.

Immediately Gently was checking me, making sure I was awake. Honestly, I was probably more aware than he was. "I'm OK," I muttered, "Guv, don't worry about it."

But dread was lining my stomach with lead. Here we were; trapped, injured and alone. Gently was rapidly weakening and, while I knew I didn't have more than some nasty bruises, there was no way I would be able to take Raleigh by surprise. He had a gun and I didn't.

Nevertheless, I tried. "Raleigh, you don't need to do this."

Raleigh laughed and waved the gun, "Actually, I think I do." He thumbed back the hammer slowly, relishing the sound.

I swallowed.

The whole world narrowed down to the black hole of the barrel.

I couldn't hear what Raleigh said over the roaring of my ears.

I saw Gently start to move –

Raleigh fell sideways with a spray of blood. I yelped and scrambled backwards, staring at his crumpled form.

Then I looked up at the panting figure standing over us.

Rachel let her truncheon drop. Her hands were trembling and her face was very pale. "Are you alright?" she asked, voice shrill.

I nodded.

Rachel leant down and tugged out a pair of handcuffs. She bound Raleigh's hands and then felt for a pulse. "He's alive," she breathed, "But I don't know for how long…"

"Never mind him," I murmured, relief making me feel weak. "Rachel, I could kiss you right now."

"You're an idiot," Rachel snapped, "You bloody idiot." She left Raleigh on the floor and crouched beside Gently. He tried to bat her away ineffectually, but the glare that she directed was enough to probably fry several police chiefs. Actually, watching her administrations, I realised that Gently was rapidly slipping into semi-consciousness.

Stomach sinking, I squatted down beside her. "Guv, can you hear me?"

"Mm."

"Really, Guv, I need you to speak to me."

"Mm?"

"He needs a hospital – now. They both do." Rachel stood and wrenched her radio out of her pocket and began giving directions into it.

I sank down beside my boss. I was starting to panic a little inside. Gently looked like shit.

Rachel looked down at me, "An ambulance is on the way."

"Good. Can you go – go make sure they know where to go?" I didn't want to break down now, not now. "Please, Rachel."

Her gaze was soft and full of worry. "Are you sure, John?"

"Just go. Yell at them to get here faster," I said, "Here, give me your coat."

Rachel shrugged it off. I took it and made a pillow for Gently. He was boneless, fully out now. God, he was freezing.

"Hang on, Guv, hang on…"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

The clinical smell of the hospital room was starting to freak me out. I'd spent too many weeks in a hospital bed not long enough ago.

I was sitting in a squeaky plastic chair by Gently's bed; stinking, aching, worrying. I had a bag at my feet filled with clean clothes for me and a few other items for Gently brought by Taylor when he had come to pick up Rachel. One of the nurses had brought me a paper cup full of sweetened tea, but it was on the bedside table, all heat fled long ago.

Rubbing my eyes, I leant forward in the chair. Despite the reassurances of the doctors, I still wasn't convinced that Gently was going to recover. He didn't _look_ like he was going to recover; he was smothered in blankets and his heartbeat was still very slow. Two IV lines ran across the bed to a drip filled with some kind of liquid. His hand was cold to the touch and matched the paleness of the sheets. He hadn't woken up yet.

Gently had been like this since the paramedics had laid him down on the stretcher. I'd wanted to ride to the hospital with him, but I'd been taken aside, forced under a red blanket and only then allowed to jump into the second ambulance. That had nearly been a disaster when they'd made to put Raleigh in with me. I'd been dragged out and then shoved into Rachel's car instead along with one of the paramedics, a man with an impressive moustache. He had repeatedly told me that I was in shock and I should lie down. I'd ignored him.

I shook my head and turned back to my vigil, watching my unconscious boss. They'd cleaned most of the blood off him, but there were remaining brown-red flecks in his hair. They were stark against the white and I suddenly found myself remembering our first meeting up in the hills. He'd had dark in his hair in those days, and I'd been nothing but a stupid kid with a new car. Gently had seen right through me, even back then.

"Jesus, Guv. I thought it was bad being the one in the bed." I patted down my pockets for a cigarette, giving up in disgust. "You bloody well gotta wake up soon, Guv." I forced a nervous laugh, "'m losin' all the feeling in my arse."

He didn't answer.

"I'm sorry," I muttered. "I'm sorry that I didn't believe you when you said that Raleigh would run. I'm sorry that I went in without back-up. I'm sorry for leaving you alone with the cars." I took a shuddering breath and then forced my voice to be steady, "But I'm not sorry that Rachel smashed him in the head. I'm only sorry that he might not have to answer for what he did to you."

Licking my lips nervously, even though I knew I was only talking to an empty room, I dug in the bag and brought out three things. "I brought you something, guv."

The picture of Isabella Gently I placed on the bedside table so it would be the first thing that Gently saw. The wedding ring and lighter I put next to it. Isabella seemed to smile at me and I knew that I'd done something right.

I sat there until dawn and Rachel came to take me home.

* * *

"John!" The blinding grin that I got when I walked through the door was the best thing in a week.

"'Ello, Guv." I plonked down a cardboard box filled with well-wishing cards and slid into the seat next to the bed. He was looking so much more alive, despite the bandages around his chest and arm. "Did they stitch up your head?"

Gently nodded.

"That's good. I didn't think you could risk losing any more brain cells." No sooner had the words left my mouth that I regretted them.

But Gently laughed. He reached over to the table to grab a mug of tea. As he drank, I saw that he was wearing his wedding ring.

The little glow inside me intensified.

"So," Gently said too casually, "How's Rachel?"

"She's a little shook up," I ran a hand through my hair. "Understandably, of course."

I knew what was coming.

"What about Raleigh?" He very carefully didn't look at me.

I very carefully didn't look at him. "He's… he's in a coma," I said, "Rachel hit him pretty hard with her truncheon and – well, he deserved it, didn't 'e, the bastard – and the doctors don't know if he's going to come 'round or whether he's gonna live, but…"

Gently nodded slowly and sipped the tea. "Is he here?"

God, his voice was so casual. As he placed the mug back on the table, I saw his hands shake.

"Yeah. Like I said, 'e's in a coma." So he can't touch you, I thought, I promise that he'll never get near you again… not even in court.

"I understand what that means, John." Gently was holding himself very still and I tried to meet his gaze. I wanted to ask if he did. Did he really understand that it meant that Raleigh wasn't going to hurt him?

Instead, I asked, "When are you gettin' out of here, then?"

He frowned up at the ceiling, thinking for a moment. "The day after tomorrow. Saturday."

"Great. I'll pick you up, then. What time?"

He stared at me. "Isn't it your weekend with Leigh-Anne?" he asked.

Shit. It was. "Yeah," I said, "But she won't mind, as long as we stop for ice-cream."

Gently laughed at that, but the moment was over quickly. Seriously, he said, "You should just spend the day with your daughter, John. I'm sure I can make my own way home."

"It's no trouble," I said hastily.

Gently nodded in agreement, but I saw the rapid blinking of someone struggling to stay awake. He was just too tired to argue. I said goodbye and then left the room.

When I snuck in to retrieve the empty mug of tea for the nurse less than five minutes later, he was fast asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

"Why is Mr Gently in the hospital?" Leigh-Anne asked. I glanced in the rear-view mirror. Her gaze was open, curious. She still had a daisy chain in her hair. "Is he ill?"

"Uh…" How to explain this to a young child? "Did your Mam tell you what happened?"

Leigh-Anne shook her head. "No. She said I should ask Daddy why he didn't answer my telephone call."

I winced. Most of the time now, Lisa and I were pretty good about being civil to each other. Two days ago though, I had practically barked down the 'phone at her. I'd made an effort to apologise at the doorway this morning, but her cold demeanour had stifled it.

"Don't take out your fears on me, John Bacchus," she'd said sharply.

"Daddy?"

"Sorry, Leigh-Anne. Daddy has had a lot on his mind lately." I sighed and said, "Mr Gently was… taken by a bad man a few days ago."

"Why?" she frowned.

"The bad man wanted protection and he told us that he'd hurt Mr Gently unless we gave him what he wanted."

Leigh-Anne stared at me. Absently, she took one of the flowers out of her hair and began to shred the petals. "Did he?"

"Did he what?" I asked as I pulled out of the side road.

"Hurt Mr Gently?" she asked.

I took a breath. "Yes, he did, Leigh-Anne. But he's better now and that's why we're picking him up from the hospital." Biting my lip, I indicated right to enter the hospital parking bays. I hoped what I was saying was true.

We pulled into a bay miraculously near the front door and I turned around in my seat to face Leigh-Anne. "Pet, can I ask you a favour? An important favour?"

She nodded enthusiastically.

"When we get Mr Gently, will you not ask him about what happened? If you have any questions then you can ask me tonight, OK? I just don't want to… uh… worry him, OK?"

Leigh-Anne mimed zipping her lips shut and then smiled at me. "I'm a big girl," she informed me solemnly.

A fond smile tugged at my mouth, "That's my girl. Come on." We got out of the car. Leigh-Anne grabbed my hand obediently as we crossed the road and then skipped ahead into the grey building. I had to help her tug open the door.

As soon as we were inside, Leigh-Anne went bounding ahead towards the row of seats. A burst of fear suddenly clutched my stomach and I had to smother a cry. I forced my voice to remain level, "Not too far, Leigh-Anne, please!"

She stopped, a little sulkily, and then asked, "Where's Mr Gently?"

"He'll be coming soon," I said, reassuring myself more than her. "Let's just sit down and wait for him, shall we?" I shot a glance towards the white corridor and supressed a shudder. "How 'bout, you tell me about school last week?"

* * *

It was Leigh-Anne who spotted him first. She was halfway through a spirited rendition of what Mattie Turner had said to Lucy Lacks (it was nasty) when her gaze suddenly focused on something over my right shoulder. She grinned and then hurled herself out of the chair.

Guv looked confused, but also slightly pleased as she barrelled into his side and threw her arms about his waist to give him a hug. "Hello, Mr Gently, are you feeling better?" she asked.

He looked down at her, smiled faintly and ruffled her hair. "Hello, Leigh-Anne, where's your dad?" He spotted me. I gave him a half-wave as I moved to remove Leigh-Anne before she managed to topple him over. Guv didn't look too steady on his feet yet.

"You ready to go?" I asked brightly. A tinge of guilt struck me. "Sorry, I should have brought you some clean clothes."

Gently waved one hand dismissively, the other caught in Leigh-Anne's grip. He was dressed in a hideous yellow shirt that was far too big for him, obviously dug out of Lost Property or from the donated clothing. It made him look oddly small and diminished. My smile faded a little and Guv noticed, a small frown deepening the lines between his eyebrows. "It's alright, John," he said quickly, "Just sign me out of here and let's go."

Leigh-Anne brightened twice as much. She knew this meant ice-cream. Beaming up at Gently, she began to run through which were the best flavours while I signed the book at the desk. "I like chocolate," she told him entirely seriously, "But I also like strawberry. Which one's your favourite?"

"Hmm, to be honest, Leigh-Anne, I haven't really eaten ice-cream for a long time."

Leigh-Anne's squawk of shock was feigned, but I expected that only her father would know that. I smiled. Leigh-Anne was sharper than I'd realised. She instinctively had reached out to distract Gently with harmless chatter. I wondered if this was why she had so many friends at school; she could cheer up anyone. The thought warmed me greatly and I couldn't say why. It wasn't like I could take any credit for raising her after all.

"All done," I announced. Leigh-Anne cheered and began to drag Gently towards the door.

He froze. His expression stiffened, eyes widening. Leigh-Anne didn't notice, but I did.

For a heartbeat, Guv looked utterly terrified.

Then the moment was over. He gave Leigh-Anne a wan smile and let her pull him along.

A heaviness settled in my stomach as I followed them out.

* * *

"Does Mr Gently get carsick?" Leigh-Anne asked me, both elbows on the table. I turned momentarily, confused, and brushed my hair out of my eyes.

"What do you mean, pet?" I asked. The sausages were brown, fat jumping like frogs.

"Because he didn't look well when we were driving to his house." Leigh-Anne picked up her pencil and scribbled an answer in her maths book. "And he didn't even have any ice-cream." She looked up at me and asked, "Why couldn't he have any?"

"Well…" I managed on the second try to spear a sausage and ferry it over to the two waiting plates. I was pretty pleased with myself for managing to only burn the food a little. "Well… Leigh-Anne, Mr Gently's on a restricted diet right now."

"Why? He's not fat. Mummy says you shouldn't diet if you're not fat."

I slid her plate in front of her. "Grub's up, Leigh-Anne, put the homework away for now." I sat down opposite her and picked up my knife and fork.

"Why?"

I licked my lips, wondering how much to tell her. It's a weird feeling, that desire to protect your bairns from things like this. I never really spoke to Leigh-Anne about work. Keep it separate, that's what I always did.

But this… I had promised that I'd answer any of her questions…

"When the bad man had him," I began slowly, "Mr Gently didn't get any food. So it means that, uh, his body won't respond very well to eating again."

"Why?"

"I don't know, pet," I said, "I'm a policeman, not a doctor."

"Oh." Leigh-Anne shoved a chip in her mouth. "Was that why he looked like he was going to throw up?"

"I don't know," I mumbled around a mouthful of peas.

Leigh-Anne giggled and pointed at me, "You shouldn't eat with your mouth open!"

"Oh, I shouldn't should I? I'm a bad influence," I grinned at her and, making sure I held her gaze, I shovelled in another forkful of peas. She laughed and did the same.

"Dad?"

"Hmm?" I swallowed a bit of sausage.

"Is he going to be OK?" Leigh-Anne stared at me. Her head was tilted to the side and she chewed the sausage industriously.

I placed my knife and fork down on my plate and leant over the table towards her. "Of course he is," I said brightly, "He's an old soldier."

But in the back of my mind, I wasn't sure I was convinced.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

* * *

I dropped Leigh-Anne back at her mother's house on Sunday evening and immediately drove up to Gently's. Guilt was eating at me; both because of how distracted I'd been with Leigh-Anne and because I'd left Gently to his own devices.

The sun was setting over the hills as I approached his home, my thoughts spinning in my head. I'd just left him at his door – at Gently's insistence, yes – and driven away. I hadn't checked up on him to see if he was alright, I hadn't telephoned to see if he needed anything…

I'd been a terrible friend.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I nearly didn't see the bulky figure picking its way carefully along the road. I slammed on the brakes. I shut off the engine and jumped out, "What the hell are you doing?"

Gently looked at me for a moment and then said matter-of-factly, "I'm going shopping, John."

I gaped at him. He stared back, arms crossed, a pugnacious glare in his eyes.

"It's seven miles, sir!"

"I know how far it is, thanks, John." He sounded out of breath. In the back of my mind, I acknowledged that he'd at least put on a heavy coat and a scarf.

I pointed to the car. "Get in." Gently didn't move, eying me suspiciously. "I'll drive you." He opened his mouth to say something, but I interrupted with, "No, it's no trouble and you're supposed to be conserving energy, not wasting it!"

For a heartbeat, I thought he was going to ignore me, but he evidently saw sense. He followed me into the car and settled into the passenger seat. I saw him wince.

"Is it the arm?" I asked as I pulled away.

"The ribs."

"Oh." I kept my eyes on the road. Normally I would be haring down it, but I felt like I had to keep to the speed limit and drive carefully. It was a similar feeling to when I'd taken Leigh-Anne home for the first time. The world had seemed so full of dangers.

I almost laughed. Gently was a grown man, not an infant.

"How's Leigh-Anne?" he asked.

"Good. She made you a get well card."

He brightened. "Really?"

"Really," I said, "But you probably won't get it until June."

"Why?"

"She really wanted to send a letter, so it's coming through the post." Gently smiled at that so I added, "Also, I suggest opening it over a bin 'cause she's discovered the wonderful world of glitter and the less interesting world of glue." Gently's laugh cut off abruptly. Panicked, I glanced over to see him bent double, clutching his ribs. "Are you OK, sir?"

He nodded, features pinched. "Just… just hurts a bit."

I hastily pulled over. Gently's breathing was shallow and his eyes were closed. "Look, guv. If you give me a list I can drop you back home and get the stuff you need meself."

"No." He flapped a hand, "I need to get out of the house. I'll be alright in a moment."

I waited until his face had a little more colour before I restarted the engine.

I carried the basket even though Gently insisted that he was fine. It was a good thing I had, I thought, since my arms were starting to ache. Evidently Gently had actually listened to what the doctors had told him; there was plenty of high-calorie foods in the basket. When he wasn't looking I snuck in more; thinking I could volunteer to cook tonight at least. He shouldn't have lost that much weight in just – what? Three, four days? It worried me a little.

But he seemed better, browsing the shelves with a serene expression. He looked normal – almost. Nearly everyone we passed turned around for another look after he'd passed, no doubt worried by the lingering signs of Raleigh's abuse. He was limping a little, holding himself awkwardly. The bruising around his eye and lip had calmed somewhat, but the skin was still a deep vivid purple. But each concerned glance directed his way was deflected with a small smile and when one of the shop-assistances, obviously used to Gently's presence, hurried over to see if he was alright, Gently calmed her with a little wink and a joke. She watched me like a hawk until we were out of sight. Her stare burned my back.

It was only when we got to the check-out that he started to shake. "Can we hurry up please, John?" he asked, casting nervous glances around. I looked around too, seeing the – in some cases – open curiosity on the faces of the other shoppers. I was feeling the scrutiny and I wasn't even the one they were staring at.

"Of course," I said, "One second."

"John. Now. Please." He was distressed, glancing back over his shoulder. I looked too, but I couldn't see why he was suddenly panicking. Stuffing the last item into the bag, I pushed two tenners across the counter, telling the cashier to keep the change, and then followed Gently outside.

I caught up to him at my car. Gently leant against it, gasping. I patted his back. "You OK, guv?"

He nodded. "Sorry."

"You don't have to be."

We didn't say another word all the way back to Guv's house.

* * *

"This," Gently said, "Is actually not bad."

"Always the tone of surprise," I teased. I hadn't burnt the spaghetti (mostly due to Gently's quick eye rather than mine) and the sauce (out of a tin much to Gently's disgust) wasn't as tasteless as I feared. I chewed steadily, pleased by the amount my Guv was managing to put away.

Finally, when he was pushing the last strands around his plate, I gave up his finishing as a last cause and instead walked back to my boss' drinks cupboard and pulled out a half-finished bottle of whisky. When I returned, I saw Gently leaning on the sink, twisting the taps.

"I'll do the washing-up, John," Gently said.

"No, Guv. I'll do it." I took the cloth out of his hand.

He gave me a long look. "I'm not an invalid, John."

"I'm being nice, sir. I thought you'd welcome that. You've been trying to civilise me for – what? Six, seven years? Look, you managed it!"

"I think you've still got a way to go yet, John," he said, but he was smiling. He sat down at the table and poured two generous fingers.

"See?" I grinned back at him and took the plate. I filled the basin and began to scrub the plates, chattering on about anything I could think of; football scores, Leigh-Anne, the weather, cars. I even tried my hand at fishing jargon, making unforgivable mistakes.

"John?" he said.

I stopped nattering and turned around to face him. "Yeh?"

"Thank you." He raised his glass, "You saved my life, John. Three times over at this point."

I didn't know what to say. Finally, I stammered, "Um… you're welcome? It's human decency, innit?"

Gently shook his head, "I just wanted you to know I'm grateful, that's all."

Hesitantly, I sat back down at the table and picked up my glass. Swigging it quickly for some Dutch courage, I asked, "Sir… how are you feeling? Really?"

"I'm alright, John." His gaze was too steady.

"You're going to have to talk to someone at some point," I persisted. Gently eyed me and I clarified, "For the report, sir. The police report."

He nodded stiffly before standing. "I'm going outside."

"Sir –"

"You're welcome to join me," he said loudly. He was smiling, but there was a glassy look to his gaze. Change of subject. "The sun will be setting soon and it's beautiful up here."

As I stood to follow him, I started to wonder what Raleigh had done to Guv to make him this eager to move on and forget the whole thing. He was trying to act like nothing had happened – British stiff upper lip at its finest. I ran a hand through my hair, nervous.

Did I need Guv to talk about what had happened? Or was it better just to leave it?

I stepped out of the door, shielding my eyes against the blood-red glow of the sunset. Gently was standing by the stone wall, nursing the glass. I walked past him and propped my elbows on the wall. "Pretty," I said.

Gently nodded and took a sip. "I like to watch the sunset most nights," he said quietly.

"Did you and Isabella…?" I wasn't sure if I was allowed to bring her up but, to my relief, Gently's expression creased into a misty recollection.

"We used to sit out a lot. She loved the colours…" he trailed off and inspected the contents of his glass, almost embarrassed. "I do mean it, John. I am thankful," he added softly. "Thank you for rescuing me."

"'s alright," I replied. I lifted my hand to touch his arm, but I stopped at the last moment. I'm not sure why.

We stood in companionable silence. The wind began to pick up, ruffling my hair.

I was just considering digging out two cigarettes when a sudden gust of wind blasted past us. Gently dropped his glass. I spun around just in time to see it slip from his fingers and tumble towards the stones. It smashed in a rainbow of sharp colours. Gently slumped to his knees, hands coming up to cover his face. He cried out; a harsh, choked-off noise. Heart-wrenching and terrifying at the same time.

"Guv!" I fell down beside him, reaching out to shake his shoulder. "Guv!" Nothing seemed to work; Guv seemed to be locked some… memory? Waking nightmare? "Guv!" I begged, "Please, Guv – snap out of it!"

A memory rose up in my mind; profane and sick and accusing.

" _Don't you ever feel?! Why doesn't it affect you?!"_

"But you're feelin' now," I whispered, "You're feeling it now…"

Why now? Why not when he – we – had nearly died on the floor of the cathedral?

Because that time, Guv had been through it before, I thought faintly, he'd seen men killed in the War – he'd fought his way through Africa and Italy for God's sake.

But had he ever been captured? Had he ever been held prisoner?

Maybe that had never happened before. Maybe this was something new. Being held at gunpoint was very different from being held in a barn for days not knowing where you are, or what someone's going to do to you, or how long you have left… only knowing for certain that there's _nothing_ you can do to change it.

Maybe that was what was different. Perhaps it was the fear of that loss of control.

His hand twitched and I flinched back, seeing the fingers balled into fists. I scrambled away, heart hammering, wondering if he was going to come up swinging at any moment. He raised one hand, blinked and then opened his eyes. He stared at me and I couldn't read his expression.

"Are you OK, Guv?" I asked, inching forwards.

"Go home, John."

I bit my lip. "Guv! You're bleeding. Let me –"

"GO HOME!"

I fell backwards, shocked, betrayed. "Wh…"

Gently was still crouched on the ground, panting with the force of his shout. Smears of blood decorated the stones under his knees – he'd fallen on the broken glass. His gaze didn't falter. "Leave me alone." The tone was cold and full of steel.

A snarl of anger battered at my ribcage and I had to swallow it down. He doesn't mean it; I heard the thought echoing dully behind the fire. He didn't know what he was saying. "I…"

"I don't need your help!" he roared.

"Fine!" I retorted. "Fine. Sort out your own damned knees." I swiped a hand across my eyes. "Fine. I'll leave you alone, shall I? Why do you have to be so bloody-minded, Guv? After what I've done for you? Fine. Fine. Sort out your own damned, bloody knees. It's fine."

I marched across the garden towards my car. "Look, John –"

I ignored him, slamming the car door behind me.

My hands were shaking so much I had to pull over only two or three miles down the road. I made sure I was out of sight of Gently's home before I got out and began viciously kicking at a stone dyke, screaming curses at the wind. I cursed Raleigh and Gently and myself, hardly feeling the pain of striking the stones. Finally, I slumped down the wall, gasping for air. I dragged out a cigarette and lit it. Cupping the flame with my hands, I took a deep drag; welcoming the burn of smoke into my lungs. "Why, Guv?" I asked the night air, "Don't you trust me?"

The only answer was a gust of wind bringing the stench of wet, rotting straw.

* * *

Sorry that there was such a long gap between updates, so here are two chapters for the price of one.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

* * *

But I went back. Each visit was less awkward and more like before. Gently always looked like he wanted to make amends each time, but I shrugged it off. There were more important things to worry about.

Like why Gently kept suddenly shutting down. It didn't happen all the time, in fact, there seemed to be certain prompts, but I had only worked out two or three of them. Certainly one of them was the smell of straw. Gently refused to talk about it though, instead focusing on making sure that he was caught up with the cases happening at work. It was constant: almost as soon as I was through the door, he had the table cleared and stocked with notebooks and prints. We worked for an hour or so, probably downing more tea than was strictly healthy, passing back notes and theories. Nonetheless, it was keeping Guv busy and kept our minds off the comatose Raleigh.

I knew that Guv was working late into the night when I left and I didn't like it. He looked less ghoulish now than the initial days at the hospital, but there was a definite ragged, bone-weariness at his edges. At least when I was with him I could remind him to take breaks, citing my own tiredness as an excuse.

A week into this, I was just getting my coat when Gently's telephone rang. "Can you get that for me, John?" he called from the kitchen.

"Sure!" I called back, already reaching for the telephone. "Hello?"

 _"_ _John, is that you?"_

"Rachel, yeah. I'm just visiting Gently. What's up?"

There was a long silence on the other end, but finally, Rachel said, _"It's Raleigh."_

My knuckles whitened and I asked, "What about 'im?"

Let him be dead. Let the bastard be dead.

 _"_ _He's woken up, but he says he doesn't remember kidnapping the inspector. In fact,"_ static buzzed her words, _"He says he doesn't remember anything at all."_

"He must be lying," I snapped suddenly. "This is all some fucking scheme."

 _"_ _John… we can't know that for sure. I – I did whack him quite hard and he's just woken up from a coma. He could be telling the truth,"_ Rachel sounded tired. She sighed down the phone and added, _"Just make sure that Mr Gently's OK. And remind him that if he wants to prosecute, he's going to have to make a statement."_

"OK, OK," I said, "Thanks, Rachel. Thanks. Yeah, I'll tell him. It's fine. OK." I had to stop myself from slamming the phone into the cradle, my fingers tightening around the body so quickly I heard the plastic creak.

"Hey, John?" Gently stepped out from his kitchen, drying his hands on his trousers. His smile faded when he saw my face. "John, what's wrong?"

I bit my lip, forced myself to relax and said, "Raleigh's woken up. He's gonna live, but he _says_ he doesn't remember grabbing you."

"Oh." He nodded slowly, "Right." Gently gestured to the remnants of his bruises, "I think it did happen, don't you?" His laughter was forced and flat.

"It's not funny, guv!" I snapped.

He held up his hands, "John…"

I barely registered that he'd spoken. "You need to make a statement, guv. We need to nail Raleigh for this. We can't let him get away with what he did!" My hands were trembling as the memory of Gently – frozen, bloody, and blind – rose sickeningly in my mind. "There's no way that him 'having' amnesia has any traction in court."

Gently was chewing his lip.

"Would it?"

"Depends…" he said slowly, "Depends on the severity of the amnesia and whether… _he's_ found competent to stand trial." Gently rubbed a hand through his hair.

"We have to fucking get him," I repeated, "You have to make a statement tomorrow morning."

Gently gave me a wan smile. "I don't think that's necessary, John. We can always get him for the thefts and battery…"

"And he'll go down for, what, five years? Seven at most? He _kidnapped_ you. Drugged you, chained you up in a barn and beat the shit out of you. If we get him for that, Raleigh goes away for _life_." My hands were shaking. I realised that I was shouting, but I didn't care. "I want him to pay," I snarled, "I want him to pay for what he did."

"John."

"We can't let him get away with it!"

"John."

"He's fucking trying to wriggle out of it!"

"John!"

I blinked, coming back to my senses. "Yeah?"

He looked weary and drawn. "I… I'll make a statement. Tomorrow." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he clearly regretted them.

"Right," I tried to keep my tone brisk. Make it normal. Make it safe. "I'll come 'round tomorrow, half-eight alright?"

Gently nodded. He gestured vaguely upstairs. "I'm tired. You must be too. You should go home."

"OK." I picked up my coat. "Half-eight. Don't forget."

"I won't." He shepherded me to the door. I stepped out into the cold night air. As Gently made to shut the door, I stopped him. "It'll be fine," I said.

He smiled again. "Yeah. See you tomorrow."

The click of a lock was both disheartening and like music. At least Gently was taking his personal safety seriously, I thought, but I couldn't say why this also pained me.

I ignored my uneasiness all the way home.

* * *

It was hard to keep my mind on the reports. I sat at Gently's desk – feeling vaguely like I was playing dress-up. The sensation wasn't helped by the strange sense of betrayal nagging at my mind.

I had been all ready to take Gently's statement myself, but at the last moment, he'd turned to Rachel instead. "Sorry, John," he'd mouthed and had looked vaguely ashamed.

A swell of frustration surged through my stomach and I pushed the reports away. Was I feeling jealous? That Rachel was hearing Gently's statement and not me?

I was being ridiculous. It was whatever would make guv more comfortable.

But still, why not me? I was the one who found him. I was the one who stayed at the police station all hours and poured over the clues and then I was the one who'd found him chained to that stinking pipe…

I mentally shook myself. It's not about you, John, I thought. It's not about you.

"Hey, John."

I looked up to see Gently hovering at the edge of the desk, his coat draped over his shoulder and an awkward smile on his face. I gave him a wan smile back. "You OK?" I asked.

He gave me a look of wide-eyed sincerity. "Of course," he said. "All done. And you're in my seat."

I raised my eyebrow at the attempt at humour. "Rachel's desk is being used by Taylor. She's using mine. I'm using yours. You can get it back when you come back to work."

Gently nodded and replied, "Next week, then?"

"Next week?" I looked up at him. "But…" I didn't want to say _you still look like shit_. But it was true. Gently obviously wasn't getting enough sleep.

Gently's expression hardened a little. "John, I'm fine." He reached up to rub his head, "I'm alright to come back. Besides, someone needs to keep an eye on you."

"Thanks." I couldn't help the coldness of my voice as I stood up. "How about I drive you home?"

Gently shook his head and said, "I might stay for a while. You're working. I don't want to disturb you."

"No, no. It's fine. I'm due a break, actually."

Gently didn't say much on the drive back to his house and I didn't try to push it.

* * *

The nurse was reluctant to let me see Raleigh, but the threat of a perverting the course of justice charge was the final nail in the coffin for her protests. Slightly sullenly, she led me to Raleigh's room with a police officer standing guard. He nodded when he saw my ID. The nurse stopped me outside and said, "I don't want you to upset him, Inspector. He's only been awake for a day and he's already been questioned quite thoroughly by the police."

I couldn't help myself. "Oh, I'll try not to upset him. I'll be respectful – the way he was respectful to my guvnor." At her confused face, I continued, "Do you know what his crime was? He kidnapped my guvnor and kept him tied up in a barn. No food. No water. When I found him he was covered in blood, concussed, and hypothermic."

"I… I didn't know that." The nurse shook her head and added, "But he's got amnesia, Inspector –"

"Doesn't change what he did. Let me see him. I want to know whether he's lying." I pushed my way past her.

She grabbed my arm as I opened the door and pulled me back. The door shut behind us. "Are you really the best person to question him?"

I glared at her. She was probably right, but I wasn't about to admit that. "Let me go in. I won't be long."

I shook her off and pushed open the door.

The little hospital room was very clean and bare. There was nothing that Raleigh could possibly use as a weapon. None of us wanted to take any chances seeing the damage done to Gently. I approached the bed where Raleigh was lying, eyes closed. I was starting to shake, so I clenched my fists tight against my legs. "Raleigh."

The man in the bed shifted slightly. He opened his eyes and looked at me, blinking. He smiled at me. "Oh, hello. Are you a police officer?"

"Cut it out," I growled, "Raleigh, I know you're faking this."

The frown was artistic. "I don't understand, officer," Raleigh said. "Have me met before?"

I pulled over one of the chairs and sat down. "Don't give me that shit. You know me. I'm the one you were calling when you were setting out the ransom demands for one Detective Chief Inspector George Gently. The same George Gently that you _kidnapped_ in order to escape from police pursuit. I'm the one who found your little hidey-hole and the one you were about to shoot before –" a flare of caution flashed through my mind and I stumbled over the amendment, "Before you were hit by one of our policemen." I didn't know if Raleigh knew it was Rachel who had hit him or that she, as well as Gently and I, was a witness. I wasn't about to let someone like Raleigh know the identity of his attacker.

Raleigh was still smiling confusedly at me. His blinking was getting more rapid. "I'm afraid I can't recall any of that, Inspector. I'm sorry… I'm very sleepy." His gaze flitted over my shoulder and I turned to see the nurse in the doorway. "I'm sorry. I do need to…" he yawned and closed his eyes.

"Oi! Oi!" I reached over to poke his arm. Raleigh didn't move.

"Don't do that!" The nurse bustled over and practically shoved me out of the way. "Right. Out."

"But –"

"Out! I don't care if you're a police officer, but this man is my patient and I need to care for him. Out!"

As I was hustled out of the room, I caught a glimpse of Raleigh's hand, fingers curled loosely, rested on the bedsheets. The hands were big, hard, the knuckles covered in old scars.

And I couldn't help imagining those same hands clenched into fists and swinging – pummelling a helpless victim, a victim unable to even see his tormentor. I tried to imagine Raleigh's face in those moments – had he been angry? Or had he been cold and calculating, enjoying every second of his power over another human being?

I shuddered again. He's not getting away with this, Guv, I vowed, I won't let him.


	10. Chapter 10

Hello, sorry that it's been over a year since this was last updated. Life got very hectic with exams and opportunities and things like that. My main explanation is that I usually write at least two chapters at a time so I can upload them smartish, but I decided that I had to do more research into '70s court law in England and eventually... well. I left it a bit long and responsibilities appeared.

Anyway, I hope I still have readers and that you enjoy!

* * *

The day of the court case grew nearer and as it did, Gently got noticeably more irritable and impatient with everyone around us. I managed to shrug it off for the first few times, even joking that he was just getting his own back for the number of times I'd snapped at him. Not even Rachel was safe from his temper. And it was little things he was picking on; a momentary misremembering of a fact, or taking more than five seconds to answer a question. I managed to keep my cool, but eventually, even Taylor had to take a few deep breaths to stop from pointing out Gently's dark mood.

It was impossible to get meaningful work done around him and Rachel asked me if I'd please speak to him.

I'd agreed reluctantly, but it had been hard to get guv alone and somewhere private in order to confront him.

Nicely, of course. Calm-like.

I finally cornered Gently in the toilets. He gave me a wary look as I blocked the door. "Guv, we need to talk."

"What about?"

I took a breath and plunged into the depths, "The fact that you're panicking about the trial, guv."

Gently blinked like I'd surprised him. Then his face set into a pugnacious scowl. "I'm not panicking, John. I'm a little… concerned. Haven't you got work to do?"

"Guv! I know you're scared!" I couldn't stop the shout.

I've got to hand it to him, Guv recovered quickly. "And what makes you think I'm scared?" he challenged.

"Maybe the way you're jumping down everyone's throats. Maybe the fact that every little noise puts you on edge. Maybe it's the fact that you can't seem to sleep –"

Gently jabbed his finger in my face, "You're walking on thin ice, _son_."

"Oh, am I?" I stepped forwards. "Are you still freezing up?"

His flinch told me everything I needed to know. But still, Gently tried to bluster. "And do you really think I need your opinion on –"

"Guv, I understand. I do." I scratched my head and swallowed nervously. "It's nerve-wracking, honestly. I'd hate to have to stand up in front of a court and talk about what happened –"

Gently eyed me for a moment, sighed, and quietly said, "You're not helping, John."

I blinked.

Gently glared at me. "I'm admitting I'm scared. Are you happy now?"

Not really, but it was a start. "OK. OK. Guv – _sir_ , I think you should go home." Gently began to protest, but I added, "I don't mean you shouldn't be back at work, sir, no. What I mean is that you need to sleep. You need to get better. You're not going to – to recover if you're pushing yourself to the limit like you are here."

"I'm alright, John." It was reflexive. He settled against the wall with his hands in his pockets. "I'm alright," he repeated quietly.

"Do you want to talk, guv?"

The raised eyebrow was a work of art. "Not the most appropriate venue, John."

"Later then. I think you should…" I rubbed my cheek, "I think you should talk to someone about it, why not me?"

"I…" Gently shook his head. "I think you're right, John. I think you're right. I'm going home."

I watched him walk out of the toilets. His fists were both clenched by his side. I didn't call out to him and he didn't turn around.

* * *

The file sat innocuously on my desk. I slouched low in my chair, staring. It lay as flat and still as a bundle of paper and card should.

This is ridiculous, I thought. You could just read it. You've got every right to.

But Gently doesn't want you to know.

He won't know that you know.

"That's not the point," I snapped.

"Talking to yourself again, sir?"

I panicked.

Rachel pulled a chair over and sat in front of me. Brushing a stray strand of hair away from her eyes, she leant forward and pulled the file towards her. She didn't open it either, instead tapping it thoughtfully.

I hated how my voice regressed about twenty years as I whispered, "Why didn't Gently trust me?"

"For someone who passed the inspector's exam, you rate low in deductive reasoning," Rachel said.

"What are you…?"

Rachel sighed and shook her head. "Men," she muttered, "Think about it. How would you feel after going through something like that?"

Like shit, I thought. Terrified. I remembered the lonely climb back to health after the shooting and the tumour of icy self-doubt that knotted up my insides even when I was walking at the same pace I'd used to…

"You mean he's embarrassed? Or something?"

Gesticulating wildly, Rachel crowed, "He gets it! Honestly, John – Sir – Gently's… well, he's had to rely on other people. He's – in his mind, I think – shown _weakness_."

I still didn't understand. "Why didn't he let me take his statement then? I was there. He wouldn't be revealing anything new to me."

Rachel went quiet.

"What?"

"He was trying to protect you, John."

I frowned. "Protect?"

"Shield then," Rachel ran a hand through her hair, "It was a… full… report."

My eyes widened. "I know that Raleigh drugged him. But Gently doesn't want me to know about everything else."

Rachel was tapping her fingers on the desk. "Look, it's not my place. If Gently wants to tell you, then… he'll tell you. When he's ready."

"That'll be when Hell freezes over," I found myself muttering. As Rachel turned her gaze on me, I shrank back. Waving my hands, I added, "Alright. Alright. I get it."

"You should maybe, you know, nudge him along a bit, though," Rachel said absently.

I raised my eyebrows, but Rachel just got up and left.

* * *

I decided that I might as well go visit Guv that evening. Only stopping long enough to pick up a bottle of wine that was just about expensive enough to serve as an apology without being seen as grovelling, I broke the speed limit to get to Gently's cottage.

If I thought too long, I wouldn't have been able to force myself to go. There were still remnants of fury in my stomach.

I dragged myself out of my car when I arrived and rapped on Gently's front door.

He didn't answer.

I kept knocking. "C'mon, Guv," I snapped. "Open the door." Finally I decided to have a walk around the back. Just to check, like.

He wasn't in his back garden either. His lights were off and after a few minutes of searching, I found a single set of footprints leading from his door and out towards the hills.

I'll confess, I did have a moment of panic, but the fact that the tracks were leisurely reassured me. Gently probably just went to clear his head and go fishing. I hesitated about following him. I was fed up of having to apologise and tiptoe and…

The memory of my recovery in hospital began to play insidiously.

"You know you're a fucking nuisance?" I muttered to my conscience as I started to pick my way down towards the river.

* * *

Once I got down to the river, I had perhaps fourteen seconds of calm before three things hit me in rapid succession.

One: I couldn't see Gently.

Two: Gently's fishing gear was spread along the bank and abandoned.

Three: There was _something_ in the water and slowly being drawn down towards rapids.

I didn't think. I ripped off my jacket and dived into the river. The water closed over my head. The pain was like hitting a brick wall. I shot upwards, bursting through the surface of the water as my lungs immediately screamed for air. The rapids tugged at my limbs, but I steeled myself and thrust out my arms and fought my way across the river towards the floating –

Not a body!

I grasped Gently's opposite shoulder, tearing the cloth of his sleeve as I dragged at the dead weight – no! – turning him over onto his back. I flung my arm around his chest and began to tow him back towards the bank. The water slapped against my face and the droplets clinging to my cheeks and hair stung like needles. Guv's head rolled limply back as I kicked my way towards safety. Was he breathing? I wasn't sure. Please breathe…

My grappling fingers closed about a handful of wet reeds and I choked out a desperate plea as I pulled on the slippery weeds. One or two came free in my hand but suddenly I was clawing my way up the bank, one hand digging deep into the soil, the other twisted in Gently's shirt and fishing vest. Gently abruptly vomited water all down himself, but I didn't care. The sound of his coughing was like music.

"Guv! Guv!" I hooked him and dragged him onto flat ground, shouting over and over as I did so. He rolled weakly onto his side and dry-heaved. I was by his side, slapping his back to try and get the water out of his lungs. Gently shuddered and vomited again before curling up. "Guv, are you hurt? What happened? Did you faint? Is this the MS?" I crawled around so he could see me, "Guv, talk to me!"

He shook his head. His lips moved as he tried to form words, tremors wracking his body. His gaze was unfocused. I reached over to take off the sodden jacket, feeling the cold air tearing at my own skin. Christ.

Gently grabbed my wrist. His grip was stronger than I expected which was a good sign. "John," he managed, "This wasn't an accident."

Shock turned me to stone. "What?"

"Not an accident," Gently repeated faintly, closing his eyes. "John, somebody tried to kill me."


End file.
